Here
by NerdsRule
Summary: They were here. They were married, too young, and not one hundred percent sure where they stood with the other. But they were here, so they'd make it work. Little tidbits of Ciel and Lizzy's first year of marriage. (Warning: Fluff.)


Here

Summary: They were here. They were married, too young, and not one hundred percent sure where they stood with the other. But they were here, so they'd make it work.

Note: Not pure perfection, but, it has fluff.

* * *

><p><strong>September 5th, 1891<strong>

They were very scared.

They were not old enough to be married. She, aged sixteen, he, aged fifteen, had no business playing husband and wife. Everyone knew it; they knew it.

Alas, he had made a promise to her, the one reason his heart continued to beat, that they would be married before he died, and he wasn't dead yet.

She lain beside him, no words spoken, the only sound in the room was of their breathing.

"Thank you."

His words surprised her, sounding so sincere, and being so unexpected.

"For what?" She questioned.

"You didn't have to marry me, but you did and it," he thought for a moment, choosing his words, "it's better. Thank you for being here."

"Your welcome, but," she gave him the smallest of smiles, "I'm glad I'm here."

Her smile grew larger as his words processing in her brain. He _wanted_ to be married to her. He _did_ care about her.

Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled into his arms. "Elizabeth Phantomhive," he whispered in her ear.

She loved the sound of that.

* * *

><p><strong>September 6th, 1891<strong>

The light of the morning sun bled through the blinds and shot into Elizabeth's green eyes. She turned over and smiled.

"My husband," she muttered to herself quietly as to not disturb him, "I've finally managed to marry you."

As she slowly began to run her dainty fingers through his soft, blueish hair, he began to stir.

"My wife," Ciel growled, his blue eye suddenly opening to stare at her, "is up too early."

She let out a small huff of laughter, "It's eleven-thirty."

"Go back to sleep," he coaxed, ignoring that it was half and hour 'til noon, "We aren't going to miss anything. I have nothing planned for the next week."

"You don't?" She questioned, pleasant surprise in her voice. Didn't he have something planned every day of the year?

"Sebastian's wedding gift," he explained as he rolled over, "so I could spend time with you."

"That was kind of him," she noted.

"Extremely," he continued blandly, "and I'd like to spend time with you, sleeping. We'll go out and do something later."

She let out a heavy sigh, "Fine. Good morning, Ciel."

"Good morning, Elizabeth."

* * *

><p>Be married changed their relationship. Perhaps for the better.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>October 20th, 1891<strong>

"You don't deserve my sister," Edward educated as he glared at the boy with the eyepatch.

"I know," Ciel declared as he sipped his Earl Grey tea.

"She deserves someone who- Huh?"

"I know Elizabeth is much too good for the likes of me," he admitted bluntly, not looking his brother-in-law in the eyes, "I feel horrible she's stuck with a husband such as myself; cold, emotionless, always disappearing one."

"But your sick, twisted mind wants her here," he reminded.

"Of course I do; it's nice to have such a sweet, beautiful woman falling at your feet, no?" Ciel joked.

Edward clearly was not as amused as the speaker.

"I kid, I kid."

There was still no positive response from Edward.

"Well, if it sets your mind at ease," Ciel began as he gave Edward a serious look, "I care about her more than anyone else ever could."

* * *

><p>Her smile gave him a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Her soft touch made his knees feel the slightest bit wobbly. Sometimes, he wasn't able to get his eyes off of her.<p>

Yes, Ciel had a crush on his wife.

* * *

><p><strong>November 30, 1891<strong>

"Please? I really want to," she begged.

"No," he sighed, "I don't think that's a good idea. Besides, I don't like social things."

"Why...why can't we throw a Christmas party?" She asked, her eyes misting.

"Because I said so," he inserted sternly.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me 'no'," she demanded.

"No, because if I look you in the eyes, you win," he explained.

"Ciel..."

He looked at her, the word 'no' nearly spilling from his lips, but his eye met her sad, green puppy-dog ones, and though she had grown more mature, he knew she would burst into tears or refuse to talk or be around to him for a week (until it ultimately slipped her mind that she was mad at him), or both.

"No sparkles. Or pink."

"Don't be silly! Pink isn't a Christmas color," she said as she reached behind him and snatched his coat and slid it on her arms, "I'll be off to town now!"

"Why are you taking _my_ coat?" He questioned, "You have eight of your own."

Secretly, it made her feel like she was being held in his warm arms (and it smelled like him!) but she just said it was easier than trying to get her own. "I'll be back in an hour," she announced.

"What do you need in town anyway?" He half-asked, half-grumbled as he looked back down began to write on the paper.

She gave and ravishing smile and a playful look appeared in her eyes, "Mistletoe."

There was an audible sound of Ciel's pencil hitting the desk. His face became a shade of red rivaling the berry of the mistletoe. His eye darted to look at her for a second. She was still there; that same look, that same smile that privately made him want the mistletoe hanging over them at that moment. She must have been waiting for his reaction.

"I see. Well, have a nice time, Lizzy," he bade, not looking at her.

As he heard her footstep grow quiet and the door close, he let his head fall on the desk. That girl... How was it that she was so begging him with big, sad, adorable eyes enough for him to pity her one minute, and be so bewitching the next.

That pitiable, bewitching woman was going to be the death of him.

* * *

><p><strong>December 10th, 1891<strong>

"Check!" Elizabeth's excited voice broke the silence that had covered the room for the past fifteen minutes.

"Check," Ciel's calm voice reminded her that she needed to stay serious. The boy glanced at the board. She didn't have him in check. She should have known that-

"Checkmate!"

Ciel blinked. Indeed, she had won. He replayed the movement of the bishop sliding diagonally down the board and knocking his king from the checkered tile.

"Congratulations, my darling. It seems you've finally beat me at my own game."

Elizabeth smiled. She had finally won. And not just the game of chess...

* * *

><p><strong>December 25th, 1891<strong>

One.

That was the number of times their lips had touched together to form a kiss.

It was at their wedding. When the words, "You may now kiss the bride," hit the ears of the newlyweds, four eyes, two green, one blue, one purple, expanded widely. They tightly closed thier eyes and held their breath, as if diving underwater. They leaned forward and they immediately recoil when they made connected mouths.

Alas, here they were. Standing awkwardly under that freaking mistletoe Elizabeth insisted on hanging.

"My lord," Sebastian began quietly as he leaned beside him, "in case you are unfamiliar with the custom, you are supposed to kiss Lady Elizabeth while standing under the mistletoe.

"I know," Ciel grumbled as Sebastian gracefully strode away.

Elizabeth's eyes looked scared yet excited. She wanted to kiss him. And everyone was looking at them. Did he even invite this many people?

She closed her eyes and puckered her lips slightly. She soon realized that she was not going to receive a kiss and just looked like a fool in front of everyone.

Sparks shot through both if their bodies as he pressed his lips on to hers forcefully. He nervously kept his mouth on Elizabeth's, content filling him as her tense body relaxed. After a few seconds, they both pulled back. They looked at one another, their cheeks set ablaze by the innocent kiss.

"M-M...Merry Christmas, Lizzy."

* * *

><p><strong>January 12th, 1892<strong>

As the beads of sweat slid rapidly down her face, and the _plop _coming from the head of the dummy hitting the floor becoming an echo, the last thing she expected was applause.

Her head whipped around and she saw Ciel. "What...what you doing in here?" She demanded.

"I came to watch you train," he told her, "Quite interesting."

She felt naked in front of him. And perhaps (in a metaphorical sence) she was. This was who Elizabeth was, strength and power flowing through her as she gracefully glided across the floor. She didn't like it though. She loved the strength and power, but it made her so...ugly. Her thick blonde hair clinging to her face from the sticky and warm sweat, the dreadfully drab fencing outfit she donned, not to mention her horrid stench.

"Is something wrong, Lizzy?"

Lizzy? That name was foreign to her here. Here, she was 'Elizabeth, the Daughter of the Leader of the British Knights,' as she had cried. They had moved past it, mostly. He obviously took her as his wife, but she still didn't like him watching her. She still wanted to be the cute wife he could protect.

"I...feel...repulsive," she finally decided.

He frowned. Was she still self-conscious about this? She looked great to him. Though he'd never say it. As he watched her enticing movements across the floor, drenched in sweat, wearing the fitting, white fencing uniform, the beautiful look of determination in her emerald eyes, as her sword sliced the head off of the dummy, she had never looked more adorable.

"You look..." he looked at her blankly as he trailed off.

'Grotesque? Disgusting? Horrifying? All of the above?' Elizabeth pondered.

He felt a small twinge in his cheek, "...cute." He halfway prepared for a Death Hug™, however it never came. Lizzy just gave him a big smile.

"I suppose you could watch me. But I need a new dummy..." Her smile grew mischievous. "There's a uniform in there."

See, she was going to be the death of him.

* * *

><p><strong>February 14th, 1892<strong>

She lay on her stomach, a flirtatious smile on her face, the lower part of her legs kicking off and on the bed, holding strawberries and whipped cream.

This confused Ciel greatly.

"Elizabeth, what in blazes are you up to?"

She bit her lip coltishly, "Nothing. Come sit." Her head motioned towards the chair.

He almost questioned her motives, but he knew she'd be upset if he ruined whatever she planned. He complied and sat across from her.

"So, Ciel," she started, picking up a strawberry, "tell me about your day."

As he recalled the (rather dull) events of his day, he watched as she would take the smallest bite of the ripe fruit, an affectionate smile on her happy face.

After a while she dipped one in the cream and placed the plump, red strawberry in front of Ciel's lips. He timidly took a bite. She shook it, motioning him to continue.

He cautiously ate two and a half more strawberries before curiosity got the best of him, "Lizzy, why are you feeding me?"

She leaned up and kissed the corner of his lip, "You had some cream right there."

"Elizabeth," he warned.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

* * *

><p><strong>March 7th, 1892<strong>

Elizabeth was content as she sat alone at the party sipping on her punch, or rather was, until the two women walked up.

She didn't very much like the duchesses, they acted more important than everyone else, (they were barely one social class above her,) but as they approached her she smiled. "Good evening."

"Countess _Phantomhive_," the one on the right (was she the Duchess of Ross? Maybe...) greeted over-politely. The woman on the side snickered.

The woman on Ross's left (the Duchess of Mirand?) spoke next, "We came to give you our condolences."

"Why, condolences for what?" Elizabeth asked.

"Your marriage," the Duchess of Ross answered, "I know it must be hard for you."

"What are you talking about? My marriage is lovely," she defended.

The women glanced at each other with a look that said, 'Doesn't she know?' "But," Mirand began, "what of his other woman?"

She blinked, "You must be mistaken, Ciel has no other woman."

"Where is he then?" Ross questioned.

"Paris," she muttered quietly, "on business."

The women laughed, "Is that so? When will he return?"

"He...he didn't say," she admitted as she took another sip.

"I hate to tell you darling, but he's obviously off with the other woman," Ross put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, "Honestly, I think he didn't want a little girl like you anyway."

"What do you mean, 'like me'?" Elizabeth asked, a tone of anger nearly escaping her mouth.

"He's a mature, classy young man. He wouldn't want a childish, unladylike girl such as yourself," the Duchess explained.

"Unladylike?"

"Girls don't play with swords," Mirand told her.

Elizabeth bit her lip, "Oh, you're right! Why do I even bother?" Her arms flailed just enough to "accidentally" spill the red punch on Ross's white dress.

Before Ross could curse at her, an interruption came from behind Mirand, "Lizzy."

"Ciel," she affirmed.

"Would you care to dance my lady?" He asked, extending his hand.

She gave a sour look to the Duchesses and smile sweetly as she turned back to him, "I'd love to."

After a few seconds, Ciel spoke, "That move was not very nice of you."

"Well, they aren't nice people," she replied curt. That was the rudest thing Lizzy had ever said.

"By the way," he started, "I think my home is more lively with you." 'That was dumb,' he realized.

That was his way of telling her she was perfect.

* * *

><p><strong>April 18th, 1892<strong>

"Ci...Ciel?" She asked shyly as she sit atop her large king size bed.

When she didn't continue, he put down the book and looked at her, "Yes?"

Her cheeks began to grow more colorful as she spoke, "I...I...will you..." the look in her eyes became full of desire and want, "Kiss me!"

She knew it would be the most awkward experience of her life, but his lips always tasted of chocolate.

* * *

><p><strong>May 21st, 1892<strong>

That thing...that...demon! He finally decided that thing was a demon in the form of a one-year-old.

Why his wife had been so excited to babysit her nephew was far beyond the Earl of Phantomhive. He also had no clue why she made him stay with her.

He didn't understand what was so appealing about babies, he could list everything they did:

They pooped.

They cried.

They flailed their pudgy little arms and made a small, 'Ha,' sound when amused.

"Ciel, I have to use the lady's room," she told him. She placed the 25 pounds of feces, tears, and breast milk in his lap, "Here. Watch Carson while I'm gone."

"Me? Why? In case you've forgotten, I scare children," he replied, but that didn't stop her from leaving.

When they were alone the baby _smirked_ at him. All of a sudden he heard a sound that should only be made in the restroom.

Ciel decided to ignore that (including the 'doo doo', as Carson had referred to it as, on his pant leg) and looked at the child. "Can you say Ciel?" He tried, "Ci-el?"

Then he was wacked in the eye.

"Why did you do that?"

Then it cried. This thing was probably trained by Edward to torture him.

Elizabeth dashed back in and took the baby. She bounced it softly until it calmed.

"Don't worry," she consoled, "it'll be easier once we have one of our own."

"What?"

* * *

><p><strong>June 8th, 1892<strong>

The buckled down, stubborn look in her eyes met with the cocky, amused look in his. Her pursed lips, his smirk.

"Just give up, Elizabeth," he persuaded, "You can't win."

His arm was at a 45 degree angle, pushing her arm down to the table at its complement.

"No, I will beat you at arm wrestling," she decided.

She pushed, but his arm would not move. Then she got an idea.

"Ciel," she gave him _that_ look, the look she gave him when she wanted to kiss him. She softly bit her lip.

His grip on her hand loosened, but remained, "Yes, Elizabeth."

She smiled and slammed his hand into the table, "I win."

* * *

><p><strong>July 23rd, 1892<strong>

As Sebastian opened the door, his young master looked up and put a finger to his lips, as his young mistress was still asleep in his arms. Sebastian leaned over to Ciel, smiled, and whispered to him.

"Your Aunt Frances is here."

"[Censored]," he cursed loudly.

His voice woke Elizabeth, seeing as she stirred, "Muh. No profanity," she muttered, "What makes you upset this early?"

"Your mother's here," he sighed.

"Oh, [censored]," she whined, "I know you don't mean in the house."

"I made sure Mr. Tanaka took his sweet time showing her around," Sebastian assured.

Elizabeth sat up and stretched, "I can get ready in a few minutes."

"Oh," Sebastian started, "and in case you've forgotten, the Marchioness is under the impression you have separate rooms."

The two let out synchronized groans. Elizabeth got up and grabbed one of her dresses, "Ciel, don't get out of bed, no matter what. Sebastian, please keep my mother occupied for just four short minutes."

"Yes, my lady," he bowed as her lazy husband nodded and rolled over.

She had a master plan.

/

"Good afternoon, Ciel," Frances greeted, "Where is my daughter? And why are you still in bed at noon?"

Well, Lizzy was in the bathroom, but his father's sister would not react well to that. He was in bed because he was told to stay, but that wouldn't fly either.

"Hello, Mother," Elizabeth greeted sprightly and cheerful as always. She had a wet rag in her hand. She walked over to Ciel and placed it on his head, "How've you been?"

"I've been fine. You?"

Lizzy smiled, "Just wonderful. Though, it seems my dear husband has come down with a fever."

"Is that so?" She asked, eying Ciel.

"Yes, ma'am," he said weakly, nodding slightly.

"I noticed your bedroom has no bed, Elizabeth. Care to explain?" She was now eyeing Elizabeth, and it did not matter that she was her mother, it still scared the living daylights out of her.

"Last night my mattress broke, so Sebastian disposed of it and I slept in the guest room last night," Lizzy explained. Ciel wanted to commend her lying. She was doing quite well, until the next question was asked:

"Why are your nightclothes in his bathroom?"

* * *

><p><strong>August 29th, 1892<strong>

He wouldn't tell her what was wrong.

She had learned about many aspects of his work as the Queen's Watchdog, though, there were somethings he wouldn't tell her. But he really seemed torn up about whatever was happening.

He sat on the bed in furry, "Just don't talk to me, alright Elizabeth."

"Ciel," she reached out and touched his shoulder. His face scrunched up, but he didn't tear away.

"I don't need your comfort, I'm fine. Leave me alone," he commanded forcefully.

She moved over to him and sat on her knees behind him. She reached and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Lizzy, I-"

"Shh," she hushed, "it's okay, Ciel."

It was quiet for a very long time. Ciel, though rebellious, was happy in her hug. Perhaps what he needed was a warm, womanly embrace. Just like the ones he use to get.

She didn't make a comment to his next response knowing it could ruin his sense of peacefulness.

"Mama," he whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>September 5th, 1892<strong>

They were still a little scared.

They were still not old enough to be married. She, aged seventeen, he, aged sixteen, were still figuring out how to play husband and wife. Everyone knew it; they knew it.

Alas, he had made a promise to her, the one reason his heart continued to beat, that they would be married before he died, and he wasn't dead yet.

She lain beside him, no words spoken, the only sound in the room was of their breathing.

"Have you ever told me you love me?" She asked introspectively.

He thought for a moment, "No."

"Do you ever plan on telling me?" She continued.

"I haven't really thought about it," he responded.

"Do," she bit her lip, "you love me?"

He got shivers from her touch and brightened at the sight of her. The past year had been one of, if not, his best. He cared about her, a lot, as a best friend and in a romantic sense, though, they were still terrified by the overpowering feeling of their kisses.

He looked at her, who was staring at the ceiling.

"Do _you_ think I don't?" He wondered to her.

"No, I- I don't know. I know you care about me, and I'm pretty sure you love me in someway, but I don't know which way?"

"Do you think I'm in love with someone else or something?"

"Er..." She shouldn't say that, "No."

"Elizabeth..."

She pursed her lips, "Ocasionally...or rather rarely...I...wonder if you...may be...fond of...Sebastian...?" He looked rather upset, making her reply hastily, "It's just you're always with each other, and he dresses you, and he carries you like a princess..."

"Firstly, I do not love Sebastian," Ciel dismissed, "Secondly, is that why you think I don't love you?"

"I...I know I'm loud, and annoying, and I amn't the most attractive person," she admitted, "And I know, you have a hard time with emotions."

"Don't be ridiculous, I love you," he assured, "And yes, like that."

She loved the sound of that even more than the sound of her new name.


End file.
